


Prologue

by sanguinity



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Angst, Book: The Sign of the Four, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-01
Packaged: 2018-03-03 23:04:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinity/pseuds/sanguinity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For one breath, for three breaths, the pearl in my hand is everything that might have been, a little house for my Kate and me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [venusinthenight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/venusinthenight/gifts).
  * Inspired by [So Keen a Sympathy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/2891915) by [sanguinity](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanguinity/pseuds/sanguinity). 



> My first attempt at Kate/Mary for venusinthenight. This eventually became backstory for "So Keen a Sympathy," but I was unable to put the moment aside entirely, so have a 221B.
> 
> You may also consider this the beginning of the branch universe of my heart, in which Mary Morstan _doesn't_ spend seven years politely waiting to be a model client for Mr. Sherlock Holmes. She does have a "decided genius" for detective work, after all...

The pearl lies in my hand, gleaming and lustrous, and for one heartbeat, for three heartbeats, it is everything that might have been, a little house for my Kate and me. For that single breath, the illusion is perfect: Kate smiles up at me in the light of our own hearth, her hair spread dark and shining around her. 

"Oh, my dear Miss Morstan!” my employer exclaims, and I look up. My Kate has been married these four months; I stood beside her to witness her vows to Mr. Isa Whitney. There will be no little house. 

One pearl could not have secured our future, after all, and we had been given no reason to expect a second. 

I feel ill. 

Mrs. Cecil Forrester leans closer. “A year to the day since the other.” Her voice is full of wonder, caught up in the romance of anonymous benefactors and mysterious treasures. 

And I... I am an orphan governess. My laugh is nearer a sob. 

"My dear," she says again, and takes my hand. "Who are they from?" 

I clutch her hand tightly. "I don't know." My father, lost these five years, but perhaps lost no longer? But if my father, why is there no message? 

Mrs. Forrester's eyes are bright, nearly as bright as my Kate's. “It’s a _mystery,_ ” she breathes.

**Author's Note:**

> And a sixty-word ficlet of an earlier moment in the same continuity: "[First of Seven](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6495571/chapters/25891377)"


End file.
